


A Ghost in Chaotic

by Dark Automaton (0Dark_Automaton0)



Category: Chaotic (Cartoon)
Genre: Body Horror, Ghosts, Original Character-centric, POV Second Person, Psychic Abilities, References to HS, Technobabble, Undead
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-27
Updated: 2015-08-07
Packaged: 2018-04-11 10:34:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4432175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/0Dark_Automaton0/pseuds/Dark%20Automaton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A look into what would happen if someone died while logged in to Chaotic. That is, with the help of some "abnormalities".</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> As you can see, this is in a Homestuck-like format, mainly in the second-person POV. Don't let this tip you off, though, it's mostly just in the setup, and has little to no impact on the actual story.

**A Ghost in Chaotic**

**Introduction**

Today is your twelfth birthday. You were gifted from birth with frizzled red hair that has grown long over the years, and pasty skin that burns as soon as natural light touches it. It was twelve years before now that you were given life, but it will be only today that you shall be named. What shall your name be?

 ~~Alexandria Maria Moonlight~~ **X**

Hell no, that's incredibly stupid. Well, now we know that your parents probably dropped you on your head as a baby. Give us a real name, not some Mary Sue garbage.

Erin Conner **+**

That's more like it.

Now, you are a relatively normal young lady with a variety of interests. You enjoy delving into the realm of fantastic literature, and often delve into games relating with them. You also delight in watching supernatural folklore and psuedoscience, and hope that some day you will join the ranks of the esoteric order of the Ghost Watchers. You also like breaking and burning things, though you're not entirely sure why.

Everyone looks at you and your passions with disgusted faces of jealousy and scorn. At least, you most certainly think so. You don't really have many friends, and are raised by your wise, if not slightly delusional, grandmother. She is the only family you have ever known, and probably will ever know. Apparently your family has a thing for only marrying fellow only children, and then only having one kid.

The practice is completely stupid and lame, even if it was important back in the day.

She gave you a very intriguing game last year, by the name of Chaotic. At first, you thought she was pulling your leg, misinterpreting your whimsical fancies for an interest in gaming. However, when your scanner received a code that lead you into entering a world that had one leg each in the genres of fantasy and science fiction, that's when you really got into it.

Not that you made any real friends from it. The kids in Chaotic weren't any different than they were in real life, if not even worse. They had no chaperones but the older clients of the game, who were often too engrossed in their own activities to really keep children from picking fights with one-another. If anything, the older players were predatory, in the competitive way.

Anyways, today, your grandmother has promised to take you out to dinner in celebration of your birth. Her driving skills are questionable, and your 75% sure she'd be legally decried blind if she bothered to take off her coke bottle glasses, but you're not worried. You really should be, you fucking imbecile, but there has really been nobody to tell you so besides Grandmother.

 


	2. Chapter 1

**A Ghost in Chaotic**

**Chapter 1**

** ==> Log in to Chaotic **

You already are! You've made a habit of logging in every morning after breakfast in order to get the maximum time allowed by your scanner's crappy internal battery. You can't wait until tonight, when the tales of your Chaotic self's adventures flow into your mind once you've logged off.

For now, you might as well take inventory of your presents. Your grandmother has never believed in hiding something that will soon belong to someone else, so she never really wraps up the gifts. The first is a new Ghostbusters shirt, with the classic symbol on the front. This brings back fond memories, of when your parents were still together, and you all gathered in front of the television to watch four middle-aged men get gooped up in slime by a green spectre.

Ah, those were the days.

You change into the nostalgic shirt, and walk over to your computer. No use wasting your limited battery on your scanner for simple chatting. You may not have full-fledged "friends", but you do have allies, with whom you have forged a mutual agreement to assist one another in scan quests and so forth.

\- ChildofZul has logged in -

CZ: Hey! Lenny, pick up.

\- LeonardosBlade has logged in -

LB: How many times have I told you not to call me that?

CZ: All the times.

LB: What do you want? I can tell you're not useing your scanner, there's no video feed, so what's so important?

CZ: Guess what day it is? :D

LB: Uh, IDK, Labour Day?

CZ: No you dum-bass, it's my birthday!

LB: Dude, I hardly even know your gender, nevertheless your birthday.

CZ: We've met in person, at least in Chaotic, how could you not tell? >:(

LB: Kid, you probably haven't even had the Talk yet, and long hair has become fashionable in boys recently, how was I supposed to know?

CZ: DX

LB: If it's any consolation to you, Happy Birthday.

CZ: Thanks! :D

\- ChildofZul has logged out -

LB: Goddammit kid.

\- LeonardosBlade has logged out -

**== > Check the time**

You look at your browser's menu. It's 5:30 pm, maybe another 30 minutes until Grandmother gets in gear and heads out.

25 minutes later, and you both get in the car. You finally get to sit in shotgun for the first time in your short life, and it's a power you greatly enjoy. Grandmother also seems to be enjoying this, even as her gnarled hands grip the wheel with questionable firmness. Earlier in the week, it had been raining, and thus, the road was covered in a slick reflective sheen of water.

As you both turn onto a bridge, some boy rides across the street on a skateboard. The fat bastard nearly slams into your vehicle, but in some strange twist of fate, he comes out unscathed. Instead, your grandmother turns sharply, ramming into a lightpost and in oncoming traffic.

You feel the metal creaking as the engine is crushed, and you soon see a pretty sizable pickup truck heading right for you.

The impact is too quick for you to really put much detail into it. You remember being pushed into your grandmother, your arm flaring in pain, and your neck whipping just hard enough to not kill you, but certainly snap something. You feel something cold jabbing into your stomach, and there are glass shards everywhere.

Good god, why the hell is it so cold in here? It's in the middle of July... Why is it so fucking cold? Grandma.... I think the heater's broken....


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This is gonna be a little more gruesome than last time.

**A Ghost in Chaotic**

**Chapter 2**

**== > Be the Chaotic Avatar  
**

You are now the Chaotic Avatar of Erin Conner, and are otherwise known as ChildofZul.

We would rather not be subjected to another introduction sequence, as you are simply a sort of techno-spectre of the same person we last introduced. However, we can expand more upon your Chaotic life.

Your preferred Tribe is a tie between Mipedians and Underworlders, and you sometime switch between those two on a frequent basis. On one hand, the Mipedians are mysterious and ghostly, and on the other hand, the Underworlders are what you've always dreamed demons to have looked like. They're all just so awesome!

But you digress, it probably doesn't matter anymore. Erin Conner is dead, and with her, her interests. Can't really play games when you have more important things to deal with. Like hiding from the nearby panicking teenagers, who witnessed you take on your mangled new form. These teens are currently being pacified/interrogated by one of the Codemasters. You never really payed the Codemasters any mind; they announced matches in the Dromes, and you were more interested in Perim anyhow.

You can only assume that, since your human self was killed, they wished to delete you. Nobody wants a phantom account just lurking around, especially with the grievous family-unfriendly wounds you bare.

Your neck can't seem to keep itself straight anymore; no doubt from some tendons or muscles snapping from whiplash. You have a hole in your chest, and your right arm and leg twisted at an unnatural angle. From head to toe, your skin is covered in scratches and small bruises, from the glass. Your body is blue and translucent, wreathed in blue letters and numbers, not unlike those strange phantom's that come out of a Creature when they cast a Mugic.

You can't quite feel the wounds, though. In fact, you can't quite feel anything.

**== > Go to Port Centre**

Aha! A way out!

But... How can you get there, if there are so many people practically surrounding the stupid platform?

You spot one of the various outdoor Port Terminals(c), cleared out due to the weather.

Stupid! If you felt much anger anymore, you'd be bonking yourself on the head furiously. Of course they had more Port Terminals! How would the huge amount of kids get from point A to point B? Walking?

You slowly and carefully make your way to the terminal, the tips of your feet barely touching the ground beneath you. You hear a gasp and a scream. Damn! They saw you!

**== > Abscond!**

You hurriedly limp on your good leg, dragging its numb twisted counterpart behind you. You aren't quite sure how you can go that fast with a messed up leg, but you suspect that is in part of the lack of pain radiating in your body.

The Codemaster seemed stunned by your appearance, freaking wuss, but then ran towards you anyways. You step onto the terminal as quickly as you can, instantly porting you elsewhere. Although, last time you checked, your scanner kind of exploded when you died...


	4. Chapter 4

**A Ghost In Chaotic**

**Chapter 3**

**== > Explore new location.**

You decide, after escaping what could have been certain doom, to investigate whatever random location on Perim you ported to. Although, the first thing you notice, is how utterly _strange_ everything looks. Like your body, everything seemed to be teeming with those glowing numbers and letters, although the colors sometimes varied.

Depending almost entirely on the shapes of these symboled objects, you could only guess you were in the alleyway of some sort of dark city. You could see a ceiling of green light coming from above, and you highly doubted that anything non-solid would get this- what did those older kids call it?

Code! That was the word!

You drag your miserable code-y ghost to the end of the alleyway, and peeked out. There were several creatures immersed in code, all a kind of dull shade of red. Judging by the abundance of monstrous body-types, coded ceiling, and obviously red code, these are probably Underworlders.

You give yourself a light face-palm, even though you miss because the arm you tried to move was your broken one. Okay, the numbness was starting to bug you a little, even though it seems your amygdala has decided to take a break. You really needed to do something about that.

You scoot back into the alley, not quite trusting the Underworlders to be any more understanding than the humans. You needed a plan of action, and fast.

While leaning against the wall, your hand falls through. Some of the code in the wall comes loose with your hand, breaking off a good chunk of the epicenter of the touch. Around the edge of the damage is some strange blue slime, and you can only guess it to be the result of severing bits and pieces of code and mixing it with your own glitched one.

But, for the sake of your personal interests, you wish to call it something else. First, you think of calling the substance ectoslime, but that seems a little too silly. In the end, you decide to just call it ectoplasm, like any good Ghost Hunter would call it.

While you were thinking about what to call it, your little abomination of science and ectobiology has started to spread across the side of the building. You do not realize that you've basically just tore a hole in this building's code like ripping a hole in a loosely woven fabric, and marvel at its pretty shade of blue. You also do not realize that this building's inhabitants have started to notice the weird damage to their wall, until they start yelling.

"Shit," is all you say, before speed-limping out of the alley. The process of arriving at building, ripping a hole in its code, and limping away before the Perimian equivalent of policemen/firemen come has repeated itself a few times before you learn not to touch anything. Although, three wrecked houses later, you figure out how to put your weight properly onto the weaker codes.

It seems the code of the Location itself is a lot hardier than the smaller codes of the buildings. You've taken many a step upon its surface, and not even a dent. You wish to try and see if there's any way of gaining a bit more control over the codes, but you're not a programmer for crying out loud.

Last time you checked, you were a quirky weird kid who just recently got smashed by an eighteen-wheeler.

But you're strangely okay with it.

Perhaps it is the severed connection with your actual human self? Or the progressive deterioration of your body, as it fades more and more into a glitch in the matrix of Chaotic? Both ideas are disconcerting.

Your self-preservation instinct is fully intact, however, and you have no intentions of letting that go.


End file.
